The Blossom's Descent
by Starisia the Shadow Demon
Summary: One by one the petals fall, each carrying with it a memory as it drifts ever closer to an end. {A compilation of drabbles and ficlets for the DGM Hallow Countdown}
1. The First Petal's Fall

**Hello my lovelies~**

 **So, today marks the first day of the DGM Hallow Countdown over on Tumblr which means only seven days to the new DGM anime!**

 **I'm so excited, I honestly can't wait for it! So to help me channel a bit of my excitement, I decided to go ahead and try my hand at doing a few of the themes. Not sure whether or not I'll actually do all of the themes, but I'm at least gonna try~**

 **Todays themes:** _ **Deception / Abilities / Innocence / Illusion**_  
 **Chosen theme:** **Illusion**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

The halls were all but deserted, most of the orders residents having already laid their heads to rest for the night, leaving the corridors in a state of near deafening silence that made even the softest of sounds uncannily eerie. Even to the lone figure that made his way through the long corridors of this so called home, though he remained unperturbed by the echo of his own footsteps.

Darkness had long ago fallen; moonlight casting shadows through the many windows that lined the Headquarters' halls, casting the world within the dark stone walls into a dimension where color was all but non-existent. It had either been bleached from within by the moons ethereal rays or darkened to hues of gray or borderline black by the shadows that ruled over the night.

For most there was little to see aside from dark stone walls within, and grass, trees, and wrought iron gates beyond the windows' panes.

Kanda would have been content if that were the case for him as well, but, unfortunately, it wasn't.

It never had been.

He had never seen things the way others had, at least, not in the artificial life he'd been given. His vision had always been dominated by lotus blossoms and buds, scattered petals and lily pads that always covered every surface his eyes came to rest upon. Even the space between sky and earth wasn't free of the forceful flowers, the petals and blossoms often falling like scattered drops of rain.

Now was no different.

The soft hues of pink and white and even the green of their pads were untouched by either the light or dark, making them seem especially vivid and bright in contrast with the shadows that had claimed the rest of the world. It made it that much harder for Kanda to ignore the flowers he preferred not to acknowledge, despite how good he had become at that.

The heels of his boots clicked against stone as he made his way to the training grounds, the sound and feel not changed even remotely by the illusion of flora.

He should have been sleeping, that much he knew. But tonight was one of those nights that dreams of falling petals plagued each time he closed his eyes, leaving his nerves tingling with tension and adrenaline that he knew he wouldn't be a be able to simply ignore.

Thus the long trek was made, from the area where his room rested in an all but deserted section of the residence wing, to the open space that made up the training grounds. He had learned some time ago that training was one of the best ways for him to calm frazzled nerves.

The training grounds were as empty as the halls, just as he'd expected. There were few other than himself he could think of who would be willing to train at such an ungodly hour if they didn't have to, and he knew that one of those few was already sleeping soundly in Kanda's bed.

He didn't mind that. As much as Kanda may have enjoyed training matches with any idiot foolish enough to challenge him, the quiet solitude that he found when he was the only soul within the large space was something he found almost soothing.

Removing his shirt and drawing Mugen, he set the clothing and sheathe near the doorway, before making his way towards the center of the room before stilling. He closed his eyes as he melded into the position that was all but second nature to him after so many years as he inhaled, slow and deep. Both hands closed on Mugen's hilt as he allowed the breathe the leave him on an equally slow exhale, before opening his eyes, and instantly falling into the familiar motions.

His blade sliced through the air, the sterling sound of the wind parting for the glistening steel the only one that reached Kanda's ears as he sliced and whirled, before bringing his blade down in a lethal arch that sliced right through one of his mind's bright blossoms and stopped a hair's breath from the ground. He leaped back, landing several feet away from his previous position, and instantly Mugen was at the ready once again. Both blade and wielder remained still for but a moment before another sequence was in motion. Kanda moved effortlessly across the ground with the grace and fluidity that rivaled even the most skilled dancer, while his blade sliced through the air in directions that, to anyone else, would appear completely random as they sliced through empty space. And yet they were delivered with perfect precision in Kanda's eyes, for only some of the blade's swings were directed at the empty air anyone else would see.

Many of Mugen's blows, however, were directed at targets that only Kanda could see; the petals and blossoms that fluttered from the ceiling to the earth to join the countless other blossoms that littered the sandy ground.

The blossoms couldn't be manipulated by any outside force, whether it be rain or wind or even Kanda's blade itself. Even when single petals were sliced through with pinpoint accuracy they remained in one piece, freely continuing their leisurely decent. Only occasionally did some petals scatter from their pistils after being pierced, but Kanda knew the reason had nothing to do with his interference.

That didn't stop him from slicing through though, his movements only growing faster and more ferocious as time wore on and he grew more and more engrossed in his imaginary battle, cutting through blossom after blossom, petal after petal.

By they time he finally paused to take a breath, sweat shimmered on his skin, causing sections of hair to stick to his back and face, while beads slid down his face till they landed on the ground beneath his feet. Fe let it last only a few moments before once again tightening his hold on Mugen's hilt. He spun around, blade ascending in an upwards stroke that had Kanda's eyes widening as it was caught by a familiar set of lethal looking talons.

He blinked a couple times, gaze slowly shifting from the clawed hand to the equally familiar face the lay behind it.

"Moyashi?" He said after a moment of simply staring at the younger exorcist. Straightening out of his battle ready stance, he pulled Mugen from Allen's left hand. "I thought you were sleeping. What are you doing here?"

Allen lowered his hand, his innocence deactivating as he did so and returning his hand to its usual state. He offered Kanda a small smile. "I woke up and you weren't there. Figured I should at least make sure you weren't getting into trouble."

Kanda gave an unamused click of his tongue. "I'm not you, Moyashi. I can actually handle myself."

"I can handle myself just fine, BaKanda, and you know it," Allen huffed in reply, arms coming up. There was a moment's pause, and when Allen next spoke there was a softness in his voice that hadn't been there before. "What are you doing here so late? Couldn't sleep?"

Kanda's first instinct was to simply tell Allen that it was none of his business, but that option was soon brushed aside, a part of him already knowing how that would play out. And a fight with Allen wasn't what he wanted, not so close to another assignment.

"Don't worry about it." He said instead a shrug, rolling off his shoulders as he started turning towards the door, only for a flash of color on Allen's form to catch his eye.

A petal had come to rest on Allen's shoulder, the splash of pink oddly out of place on the younger's shirt. Not for the first time, Kanda found himself wishing he could reach out and simply brush the flower petal from the younger's form. More than once he had found himself reaching out to do just that, despite the pointlessness of the gesture, and even know the urge was there. Even now, he found his fingers closing tighter on Mugen's hilt to keep himself from doing just that once again.

"If you say so," Allen finally stated with a small sigh. The younger turned away, and Kanda watched as he moved towards the door, only to pause half way between Kanda and the threshold. Turning back to the dark haired, he offered a small smile, warm in its nature."Come on, Kanda. You should at least try and get some rest."

"If I need rest I can sleep on the train," Kanda responded, almost reflexively.

Despite the negative response though, he still turned to begin walking towards the threshold, causing the younger's smile to widen the smallest fraction.

"I guess that's true." Allen replied as Kanda passed, before moving to follow the dark haired.

He waited patiently as Kanda retrieved Mugen's sheathe and the discarded shirt, the later simply being draped over his shoulder, before they exited the training grounds. The sound of the heavy wooden door closing behind them echoed down the hall, momentarily shattering the quiet of the night as the two began heading back the way they came.

Neither spoke another word as Allen fell into step at Kanda's side; becoming his companion in the endless sea visible to only Kanda's eyes.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **And that's it for day one, and my first genuinely new thing in a while. Hopefully I'll have another little thing tomorrow, but if not, then the next day for sure since I already have a plan for that one!**

 **Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!**


	2. The Second Petal's Fall

**And day two of the DGM Hallow Countdown has arrived, which means; Six more days to the new anime!**

 **Ugh, I honestly can't wait to cry my eyes out over it!**

 **Anyway, here's my fic for day two~ Just a heads up, it does contain slight spoilers for a few things after and/or around the Edo Arc**

 **Today's Themes:** _ **Persecution / Black Order / Noah Clan / Beliefs**_ **  
Chosen theme: The Primary theme is Persecution, but the other three were incorporated as well.**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

Persecution was nothing new to Allen Walker.

For as long as he could remember he'd been one of those who unfairly suffered its cruel existence in one form or another; always because of things he was helpless to change.

When he was young he had been an orphan, presumably abandoned to an unknown fate by parents he had no memory of. Sure, some had taken pity on him; the poor child that struggled to survive, even after being taken in by the circus, but others had still looked down on him for something as simple as his pathetic existence. He had been ostracized, beaten, and called countless cruel things that he preferred not to recall.

And that was, often times, without his left arm even being a factor.

When it was he was only persecuted more for the unnatural limb; the thing that made him an abomination in the eyes of so many, despite the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. The skin the color of dried blood, the unnatural black of his nails, and the ridges on his knuckles that almost resembled a puppet's joints were more than enough to disgust and unsettle most. Few in those days had been willing to so much as look twice at the horrendous arm.

It wasn't hard to imagine that it was probably the very reason his parents had decided they didn't want him in the first place. As a child, when he would find the fingers of his right hand brushing across the rough skin that felt almost like leather beneath his fingertips, he couldn't even say he blamed them. After all; who would want to deal with a child with such a disgusting, unnatural, and disturbing deformity?

He had never once thought during his days as 'Red', that things would be any different. He had suspected he would always be looked down on, mistreated, and brushed aside by the rest of humanity, no matter how long he lived. In his eyes, there had been no such thing as a good person. All humans were selfish and cruel, only showing any form of kindness and compassion when it was to those they already cared about on at least some small level. And he hadn't seen anything that contradicted that belief.

That was, until he'd met Mana Walker.

Mana was the first human to ever show Allen any of those things without there being anything in it for him. Even when 'Red' had been rude and mistrusting, not hesitating to lash out with a sharply barbed tongue, almost hoping the words would hurt the man before he could hurt him.

Still, Mana was kind, compassionate, and caring, giving 'Red' his first taste of something he had never imagined he would experience. He even went so far as to give 'Red' a true name, among the greatest gifts he thought he had ever received, even so long after it had been given.

His time with Mana may not have been completely free of certain tribulations, but for the first time in his memory, he didn't mind it as much. For the first time in his memory, he'd been happy.

He'd been loved.

And those days were ones he wouldn't have traded for anything in this world or the next.

Then Mana had been taken away by that carriage, the only warning the sounds of the shouts and the beats of the horses hooves against the cobblestone street, soon ending with the sound of a crash and splintering wood. After that his life was far too quick to fade, even Allen's pleas for him to stay, to not leave him alone, doing nothing to delay his departure from this world.

Then came the day he turned Mana into an Akuma, an act he would continue repenting for for as long as he could with both his arm and the left eye cursed by his beloved Mana's soul.

After that there had been two new trials for him to face, because of the way the world seemed to interpret them. They were easier to handle though, than the ones 'Red' had faced, and he had to wonder if that was simply because few things hurt after the loss of his beloved foster father.

The now snowy strands that had taken the place of the previous brown hue with the first activation of Crown Clown was the lesser of the two. It would catch eyes and earn whispers, the hue so unnatural for one so young. But he found that there were only a few who looked down on him for it, and fewer still who showed cruelty in their words or treatment.

The scar however, the wound that marred the left side of his face with no chance of being hidden drew more attention than he would have liked. It was another deformity, and while more viewed it with pity than with disdain, it had still been just a matter of time before selfconciousness and embarrassment made themselves known with regards to both his hair and scar.

Even if he didn't face the ill-treatment as often as he had in his youth, it was enough that he couldn't simply ignore the fact that they were so unnatural in this world they lived in.

On some level, he had even expected to face at least some form of persecution at the Order. He was cursed, after all, and had committed the grave sin of turning a loved one into an akuma, and yet...

He hadn't been.

Kanda had made a few remarks about it, that much was true, but other than that... He had been welcomed. Embraced, and made to feel safer than he had in years, despite the dangerous path he had chosen to walk. Eventually even the selfconciousness he felt, the embarrassment at the appearance of his scar and hair, had begun to fade. He stopped feeling the need to hide them from his companions and, eventually, the world, forgoing the hoods he had grown so fond of in the earlier days.

And yet...

And yet, it seemed the feeling couldn't last.

It felt as though no sooner had he come to terms with all these things, that something new reared its head, something darker than most anything else he had endured.

The Noah he harbored had come to light, becoming common knowledge to those around him, and giving yet another reason for him to be persecuted, once again for something he couldn't help. Something he had never asked for. Something he couldn't change, no matter how deeply the wish to do just that pierced his heart and soul.

And as if the doubt and pain that gripped his heart as he wondered if this Noah - the _brother_ of his dearly departed Mana - was the reason his father had taken him in in the first place wasn't enough, he couldn't even hope to deny the whispers.

The voices that cried out for the Noah to be killed, that murmured about how Allen Walker couldn't be trusted. How he would be the end of them all, and how innocence or no, he was no exorcist. Few spoke such things to his face, that much was true, but that didn't stop him from hearing the whispers in the cafeteria, the murmurs in the halls.

That was perhaps the worst of it; knowing that those he had grown to consider family no longer saw him as the same. If it hadn't been for those who had stood by him, still seen him as the Allen Walker they knew and loved, he didn't know whether or not he would have been able to hold out under all of the nasty looks of scorn and disdain.

No, persecution was nothing new to Allen Walker.

Far from it.

And thinking back on it all now, compared to everything else that had garnered him ill-will in the past; this wasn't so bad.

He'd been persecuted all of his life for what he was, what he looked like, and even something sealed within that he never chose. But now, he was being persecuted for something that was his choice, and that was something that almost drew a smile to his lips.

Here in this dank cell with talismans on the wall, a chain around each ankle, and his arm restrained and sealed; he was being persecuted for helping a fellow exorcist and someone he cared for get away from those who would deny them even the right to a proper farewell.

And even now, when exhaustion seemed a constant companion and hunger gnawed at his stomach like a rabid beast thanks to the days of accepting nothing but water from the captors he had once considered his allies... He didn't regret it.

He would rather be persecuted for something like this, for doing something he _knew_ was _right t_ han for something he had never chosen. Something he was helpless to change. He had known there would be consequences, and for the first time he had chosen to bear them.

From the surface of his most flawless mask, to the deepest parts of his truest being, he knew he had done what was _right_.

And if he was going to be persecuted, branded a traitor by the very Order he had served because of that; then so be it.

He was still glad he had opened the Ark's gate.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **Aaaand that's it for day two~**

 **Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**


	3. The Third Petal's Fall

**And day three's entry is here, despite the fact that it is now technically day four... Oops? ^_^" I kinda wrote myself into a corner and had to restart this one so took a little longer than expected. Least I got it done!**

 **Anyway, here's something a little more lighthearted for you guys than the previous entries!**

 **Day 3: Famine / Favorite Food / Allen's Day  
Chosen Theme: Favorite Food**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

There were many things Allen had come to love about the black Order.

The feeling of belonging that he had never expected to experience, the way it had become like a home and how so many of the people had become like a family to him; something he hadn't thought he would ever have again after loosing Mana all those years ago.

But, behind the people, it was no secret what Allen's favorite thing about being back at the order was.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

Countless conversations echoed through the dining hall, all melding together into a familiar buzz of indistinguishable chatter. Though some may have found the hustle and bustle annoying, especially after so long out in the field, Allen almost found it soothing in a way. If one listened closely, perhaps they could make out a few words here or there, but in the current moment Allen's focus was set on the familiar man situated across the counter as he listed a plethora of dishes that most could scarcely hope to keep track of.

"Ohhh, I'm so happy when you're home!" Jeryy exclaimed happily, drawing a small laugh from Allen's lips as he moved away from the counter, disappearing into some other section of the kitchen beyond. Jeryy's love for Allen's appetite was no secret.

"Jeez, Allen, you sure you're gonna eat all of that?" Lavi inquired from his place beside the counter, a familiar look of mild incredulity on his features.

Allen couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips, his silver hued eyes turning to the red head. Allen was well used to such questions by now, having been asked it more times than he could even hope to count, even before coming here. "Shouldn't you know the answer to that by now, Lavi?"

There were many things that were common knowledge around Headquarters. Certain things that everyone except the newest, most inexperienced finders, scientists, and exorcists, were well aware of, and even then, few remained ignorant for long.

Most met Komui the night they joined, and many – _especially_ the exorcists – learned from that first meeting that he tended to be a very excitable and somewhat... eccentric individual. Many also learned soon after that, whether from experience or from word of mouth, how he was when it came to his sister.

Most learned quickly, almost from the moment they met her, that Lenalee was basically their resident angel. She was sweet, and kind to most everyone within the order, often times being among the first to welcome their new members to the family whenever she wasn't away on an assignment. She was usually among those helping to organize the welcoming parties, and, when Komui's experiments wound up running amok, often times she was the one who saved them all from those accursed robots.

Kanda Yuu's temper was practically legendary among the Order – particularly where a certain fellow exorcist was involved. At the very least though, a majority seemed to learn about it without being on the receiving end.

And then, of course, there was Allen Walker's appetite.

"Probably." Lavi admitted, a familiar smile tugging at his lips. "But no matter how many times I see you eat, I still can't get over the size of your stomach."

Allen gave another small laugh at that, this one almost sheepish in nature as one hand lifted to scratch lightly at the skin beside the curve of his scar. Well, he couldn't exactly blame Lavi for that. After all, it wasn't as though Allen's appetite was normal. Komui had said that his appetite surpassed even that of other parasite type exorcist's, only adding to the peculiarity that was his bottomless stomach.

"I for one love Allen's healthy appetite! " Jeryy stated excitably, almost making the exorcists jump, as he began placing the first few of Allen's dishes on a tray atop the counter. The smell of Jeryy's cooking had already been prominent throughout the hall, drifting through the small window, and from the various dishes already being consumed by the dozens of other people seated within the canteen. But standing in front of the counter with the delicious scents of Jeryy's cooking right in front of him, Allen could feel his mouth watering. His stomach gave a loud growl, drawing a surprised look from Lavi before he gave a laugh. Even Jerry gave a small laugh of his own, and the smile Allen gave the chef was almost timid in nature."Won't be too long now, sweetie!" He assured as he went back into the kitchen."

True to his word, it wasn't long before the tray was stacked with a precarious looking mountain of dishes, the sheer number of plates looking like enough to feed a small army. And honestly, it probably was. That was a fact no one could deny.

"Thank you, Jeryy," Allen stated, grabbing hold of the try and lifting it carefully from the counter. He was sure to some it looked as though the mountain would crumble, whether because of its own precarious nature or a misstep by the young man himself, it mattered not. But Allen knew that, despite appearances, that wasn't something that wasn't all that likely to happen.

Jeryy was well practiced in creating the parlous looking stack by now, knowing full well how to make it as stable as possible, regardless of how unsteady it may have appeared. Pair that with with Allen's ability to balance such things from his time as a clown, and there truly was very little danger of the tower crashing down.

"No problem, Sweetheart!No one here I love cookin' for more than you, Allen darling. Make sure you come get more if you're still hungry, you hear?"

"Oh, I will."Allen assured, taking a step back from the counter.

Allen didn't miss the way even Lavi cautiously eyed his small mountain, a look of distinct mistrust on his features that almost made Allen laugh. Lavi moved to take Allen's place before the counter, placing his own order. Naturally, his was considerably smaller than Allen's own, and thus it was out in a fraction of the time Allen's substantial order.

Both with food in hand, Allen fell into step beside Lavi, letting the other act as a guide of sorts as they headed towards a table. Allen could scarcely wait to be seated, the plethora of dishes already making his mouth water and his stomach writhe in demand. Lavi's voice reached him as they reached a table with free space, but the words were lost n him, the younger exorcist too engrossed in the thought of what was soon to come.

No sooner were they seated, than Allen began placing a few of the dishes from his pile directly in front of him. Removing the lids, Allen almost _moaned_ as the scents reached his nose, his eyes scanning over the dishes before him as he tried to decide what to eat first.

"How about you stop drooling and actually _eat_ before you make me loose my appetite?"

Allen tensed slightly at the sound of that familiar voice, silver hued eyes lifting to lock on the form sitting on the opposite side of the table, just a little to the left.

Kanda's usual scowl was as prevalent as ever, his dark locks tied into their usual strict ponytail. One arm was resting atop the table, his cheek resting against a loosely curled fist, while dark eyes were settled on Allen's form.

"If it bothers you so much you could always move," Allen pointed out with a roll of his eyes, turning his attention back to his dishes.

He had been away from the order for nearly three months, missions falling on him one after another. That meant three months away from the place he considered a home. Three months away from the family he had come to love. And three months away from Jerry's divine cooking.

Knowing that, there was no way he was letting even Kanda ruin this meal for him.

"I was here first dumb-ass," Kanda scoffed, and Allen didn't have to look back at the other to know his eyes were still locked firm on Allen, the gaze no doubt more of a glare now than a mere glance. "If anyone should move it's you two."

"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that, Yuu," Lavi stated, from Allen's side, his usual lopsided smile coming over his features as. "It's not good to eat all alone all the time, ya know. People might start thinking you like being by yourself."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" Kanda demanded, his glare moving to Lavi. "And take a hint you stupid Rabbit; I don't want any company."

With a roll of his eyes, Allen returned his attention to his food, deciding, for once, not to get involved with Kanda and Lavi's bickering.

Instead, he finally, finally grabbed his fork and started eating.

As soon as the first taste touched his tongue, he was in heaven. The incredible taste swept across his palate, the chicken all but melting in his mouth and this time he couldn't hold back his moan.

Jeryy's food was by far the best Allen thought he had ever had in his life, and it only seemed that much more amazing after so long. Allen didn't even try to hold back, already knowing he stood no hope of such a thing, and digging into the plethora of delights with abandon.

By the time he noticed that both his fellow exorcists were staring at him, he had already finished off a large majority of the dishes off, leaving only the few plates of Mitarashi Dango. He swallowed his final bite of spiced pork, looking between the two for a moment before speaking.

"What?"

"Jeez, Allen!" Lavi laughed, seeming to get over the shocked daze he had been in. He shook his head a few times, turning his attention to his own food and taking a bite of the grilled meat. "How you can eat like that and not choke has got to be one of the biggest mysteries of the Black Order."

"Fucking disgusting," Kanda grumbled, placing his chop sticks atop his dish before pushing it away.

"Like I said," Allen began, grabbing one of his sticks of Dango and plucking the first of the small dumplings off with his teeth. Once again, a small moan escaped from between his lips, a happy little smile on his lips as the sweet syrup danced on his tongue. "If it bothers you then leave, BaKanda."

"I don't take orders from you, Short stack." Kanda sneered in response.

Allen's expression shifted, the joy brought on by the heavenly taste of dango being dampened by that accursed nickname. "The name's Allen."

"I thought I already told you I don't care about your name."

"And I thought you were done eating so what are you still doing here?"

"Maybe I'm not ready to leave yet. But I'm guessing that thought didn't even cross that minuscule brain of yours, did it?"

By now, Allen's expression almost matched Kanda's scowl, his displeasure written clear on his face as he glared at the older male.

"Fine. If you wanna stay then stay, but how about you at least shut up so I can enjoy my food in peace?"

"Oh, like you let me enjoy mine?" Kanda huffed, standing up and resting his hands atop the table. He leaned forward in what Allen was sure was meant to be an intimidating gesture, and, admittedly, it may have been to most. "If you want me to shut up so bad then how about you make me you little twe-!"

Whatever else Kanda had planned to say was abruptly cut off as he found his mouth occupied by the sweet dumplings Allen loved so. Allen had seen too good an opportunity to pass up, grabbing hold of one of his other sticks of dango, and shoving it into the other male's mouth.

A smirk slowly twisted his lips as the dark haired tore the stick from his lips, two of the dumplings missing from it as he dropped it back n Allen's plate before moving back. A loud bought of laughter came from Allen's side, and the glare Kanda had settled on Allen only grew in intensity. He was sure that most would flee in feat of that look, but to him its effect was largely lessened by the evident fullness in his mouth as he chewed the food that remained in his mouth.

The smirk didn't fade from Allen's lips, even as Kanda swallowed and stepped away from the bench.

"You're going to pay for that, Moyashi," He sneered, grabbing his dish before walking away, Lavi's laughter and Allen's eyes following after him.

Oh, Allen was sure Kanda would try and make good on that particular threat, but in the moment he didn't especially care.

At least now he could enjoy his beloved dango in peace.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **And there we have my submission for day three~**

 **As always, thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**


	4. The Fourth Petal's Fall

**Alright, day four is here and and here is the fourth petal! I'm really glad to be back on track here!**

 **Just a heads up, this chapter gets back to some darker themes, and contains a few spoilers for the Alma arc, so be prepared for angst and possibly pain on this one.**

 **Day 4: Death / Last Words / Goodbyes**

 **Chosen theme: Primarily death, but once again, the others are incorporated as well.**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

To most, death was a permanent thing.

There was no way to come back from it, no way to escape the twining vines that grasped at the soul, dragging it down into the endless abyss beyond. The hold was too powerful to struggle free of, the grip as strong and unyielding as a marble statue's.

Even the strongest were helpless to fight it, unable to break even a single one of the strong vines by their own strength, with only the rarest succeeding by sheer force of unshaken will.

More often though, without some other intervention, it was only a matter of time before one succumbed. With the help of another, sometimes someone could be pulled back; the twining vines clipped or cut by some outside force till they finally retreated, freeing the poor soul they'd previously held captive until the time came for them to try and take it again.

Often times if was some form of healers' doings that freed one of the hold. Other times it it was a loved one, or the kindness of someone who had never even laid eyes on the poor being before.

But still, everyone succumbed eventually.

They were pulled down to the deepest parts of the void, sorted into heaven or hell, or whatever form of afterlife awaited once the heart stopped beating. Their life drew to an end, their story reaching the final page, the final paragraph, sometimes in the blink of an eye, with not even a chance to read the final word written on the page.

Life always ended.

That was this world's one and only inescapable truth, and it was supposed to remain that way. There wasn't meant to be anything after that, at least, not on this side.

Anything coming after was unnatural. An abomination that went against nature, that had no right or reason to exist.

That's what the akuma were; souls brought back from the void to play the role of the Earl's puppets in this travesty of an existence that they hadn't even had a choice in. They were forced into it by the earl's twisted games that played off of the emotions of the departed's loved ones.

And, in a way, Kanda almost pitied them.

He related to them more than he would ever admit, to himself or to any other, for like them, he had also been denied his place in the void, and continued to be, even now.

He had had another life once; one with a true body born into this world by natural means. He had lived it for years, though he remembered only mere seconds of it. He had had someone who meant the world to him, someone he had longed to see in this life, despite not even knowing her name. He had become an exorcist, chosen by innocence to fight in the holy war, and eventually dying in service of that cause.

That should have been the end.

There should have been nothing more after that scene in the field of lotus flowers, a hand reaching for the sky with what remained of its owner's strength. All that should have remained was the back cover, closing on that final page.

There should have been no epilogue written by those taking the powers of life into their own hands, fiddling with the intricate designs they had no hope of understanding, and yet there was.

It came in the form of waking in hole filled with icy water, staring up through the still surface at a figure leaning over the side of the hole. It came in that first conversation, and that first raise of his hand, before he was pulled from his shallow resting place in his mockery of a 'birth', and it continued to be written out, day by day in a world where pain was a familiar companion.

A world where the innocence that had belonged to his former self wasn't returned to Hevlaska's body of light where it belonged. Where it could rest, dormant until its new accommodator came to wield it in his place as fate should have allowed.

Instead it remained, in the same place as him, continuously placed before him in the terrifying form that almost seemed a mockery of an angel with its missing head and arms and the wings that spreading from its back.

Instead he was forced to make contact with it, let it sink its 'feathers' into his body in an attempt to take root; time and time again until he couldn't even hope to move. And even then, he'd be hoisted to his feet, his body forced towards the manifestation to once again touch the inhuman form as they tried and tried and _tried_ to force the synchronization.

Sometimes it would even go, the manifestation's wings piercing him, leaving him agony as he bled out, until his heart finally stopped beating.

Then they'd impatiently await his 'rebirth' and repeat the process all over again.

That was the curse he was forced to bear as a Second Exorcist, a curse only one other had ever had any hope of understanding, because only one other had ever bore it.

Kanda had met his end more times than any other could possibly imagine, his heart stopping, his body slumping and his consciousness slipping into what should have been an eternal sleep, and yet, he was still here.

Serving a Church he despised with so much of his being, a Church that had caused him nothing but pain, and suffering, with no hope of escaping for as long as he remained an accommodator.

This artificial body that bore only a single piece of anything even remotely belonging in this world, a single piece of his original self that he couldn't even remember, was an abomination that couldn't die, not until its powers of regeneration finally dwindled to nothing.

For these reasons, there had been times, scattered over the years, that he had envied Alma almost as much as he'd missed him.

Alma had met his end, had been allowed to drift into the rest he had previously been denied.

At least that's he had believed for so long, nothing ever giving him reason to doubt.

He had never once thought that Alma had lived.

That he had still been suffering, being twisted, manipulated, and used by the very order that had once again denied him his right to rest.

He had never thought that he would once again meet Alma face to face. That he would once again draw his blade against the first person he had ever been able to bring himself to call a friend.

That he would once again be the one tasked by the cruel hands of bitter fate, to play a part in his end.

At the very least, as he sat in the cool sand, his back resting against one of the crumbling pillars that still retained some of the desert sun's warmth, he knew Alma wouldn't be denied again.

The air in the ruins was cool, the moon's rays drifting down from the large hole overhead the only source of light in the near silent confines of the hidden chamber that rested beneath Mater's streets.

The last time he'd been here it had been equally as quiet, the doll the Moyashi had fought so hard to protect having finally brought her song to its end after three long days. After finally fulfilling her promise to the only person she had ever cared for.

It seemed almost fitting in a way, Kanda now finding a new appreciation for the Doll's promise, for her resolve to sing till she broke, as he clung to his own solemn vow.

This time, he wasn't going to leave Alma.

This time, he was with him to the very end, and as he watched the ripples in his illusion's pond begin to settle, the final echo of that familiar voice fading from his ear, he knew his promise, like Lala's had been kept.

A burn he had scarcely felt in so long made itself known behind his eyes and his arms clung tighter to the body cradled in his arms as a few pieces crumbled to the sand, and he knew that those words were Alma's farewell.

This time he knew, in the deepest parts of his heart that Alma could finally rest.

He was finally free of the order they had both despised.

Free of the innocence that had caused them both so much pain.

And free of the artificial life that neither of them had ever asked for, that neither of them had wanted even after it was received.

And, as he felt the injuries Alma had inflicted, the pain still present in broken bones, burns, and cuts that were healing so much slower than they ever had before, he knew it was only a matter of time before he followed.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **And with this the countdown is now half way done~ Just four more days till -Man Hallow airs!**

 **Honestly, I kept rereading a bit of the Alma arc while writing this , and goodness me, honestly I don't know how I'm gonna handle that pain animated!**

 **Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!**


	5. The Fifth Petal's Fall

**And here we are with another little introspective drabble~**

 **Sorry I'm a day late with this one but yesterday proved to be a pretty busy day. Had it mostly done last night, but was too tired to finish.**

 **Hopefully that won't be the case with today's prompt though.**

 **Day 5 (let's pretend it's not day 6 for a minute): Martyrology / Sacrifice / Resolution  
Chosen theme: Resolution**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

No one could question Allen's resolve.

He walked the path he had paved for himself with an unshakable will that few others could comprehend, and fewer still actually possessed.

Nothing could make him falter, nothing could make him stray or even second guess his chosen goal to save the souls no one else could see. Even on the occasions it made him feel hallow inside, when the thoughts would cross his mind how much easier life would be if it wasn't for this holy war, he still clung tight to his goal.

It was the mission that had given him a reason to live when he'd felt he had none, the light at the end of the black tunnel he'd been trapped in, until finally the day came when he was ready. When he could take up the mantel of Exorcist, bear the Black Rose Cross as an official member of the black order.

That day had been one of the happiest he had had in some time, and even after things began to grow ever more complicated, drastically more dangerous than they had been before, it remained so.

He wore that very coat with pride, up until the day came when he thought he had lost his right to the title of 'Exorcist', a day he was sure would always remain somewhere in a distant part of his mind,

After all, there was nothing quite like having one's world crash down around them, without being able to lift even a finger to stop it.

Having their hopes, their goals, their reason to _exist_ torn from their grasp, and not even being able to fight. Even death, as terrifying as it was, seemed an almost merciful thing in the moments after the crushing realization that all those years of hard work and resolve were now nothing but dust.

Even through the fear of impending death, as the moon overhead seemed to grow closer and closer, the pain of that came with that realization was still present, almost indistinguishable from the pain of his bleeding heart. His mind had still rang with the mission he still needed to complete, the akuma he needed to save, the friends he need to fight with, to protect in the waging war.

Even as the suffocating feeling of death closed in, his vision slowly growing dark, he had grieved, more for the loss of these goals than for the loss of his life.

When he awoke, opening his eyes on the second chance he had been given at life, despite how high the odds had been stacked against him, tears had been quick to fill his eyes and he hadn't even known why.

He was sure. Somewhere in his heart he had been regretting it, grieving it, rather than celebrating.

He had lived, but his innocence was no more, turned to dust by the Noah that had come to claim his life. His left arm that had held the solitary tool he needed to complete his mission, the single weapon in his arsenal he could use to protect those friends that had become so dear, was no more. And with it, it had taken everything that had given Allen a purpose in the cold, cruel world.

What was he to do if he could no longer be an exorcist?

That had been the only thing he had desired for so many years. Even as his Master's harsh training wore on, and he was forced to a point where even the single utterance of _that_ accursed word was enough to make his blood run cold, he had endured with that single desire in mind.

How could he live? How could he keep walking if all of his oaths were turned to nothing but ashes, scattered in the wind? Just the thought of it made him feel dead inside, almost making him wish he hadn't awoken if this was the cruel fate that the god they served had chosen for him.

Even when the strange blond had offered him the alternatives it had felt as though his heart was being torn to shreds, salt rubbed into the gaping wounds and once again drawing tears to his eyes.

What could he do as a supporter? He couldn't save the akuma. He couldn't protect or fight beside his friends, only become a burden, a hindrance to them when he needed their protection. What was the point? He wanted to protect, to save, to walk forward on his chosen path, and he couldn't do that as a supporter.

And then light appeared, the minuscule particles forming a mist that illuminated the darkness of the pitch black tunnel, once again illuminating his world with a renewed sense of hope.

It hadn't taken long for him to realize that it wasn't going to be as easy as anyone had hoped.

But as days passed without sleep, his ability to form what had once come to him with barely a conscious thought dwindling rather than progressing, it did little to put a damper on Allen's newly found will. With each failed invocation, with each rebound that came with the disintegration of his barely formed 'weapon', his resolve only grew, agitation and a feeling of uselessness growing along with it

Even after the sessions with Fo had started, his body being pushed to limits that left him unable to even remain a part of the waking world, his body obtaining wound after wound, he clung to his resolve, even as frantic impatience brought to light feelings of frustration he couldn't contain.

He hated it, knowing his friends were fighting while all he could do was struggle from afar, trying to regain the ability and right to be at their side. Every day, hour, minute that he was in the Asian Branch, was another that they could be in danger, another that could prove to be their end, and he was unable to help them.

The darkness such thoughts brought on was almost suffocating, the trial it all put on his body, the effort he seemed to be putting in to no prevail. The way his memories of his innocence, the way it had felt both invoked and not faded more and more.

It was all but impossible for even his will not to waver, but still he clung. The small hope that only seemed to grow smaller as time wore on almost like a lifeline to him, one he refused to release no matter how small it grew.

And then, from the darkest moment, when evacuation was eminent, fear almost tangible in the branches hall, hope had blossomed to life with an almost blinding desire. A surge of warmth and longing that was impossible to ignore as his blood began thrumming through his veins, his heart beating for the first time since his arm had been taken. The desire to go to the akuma, to fight it, to _save it_ , was stronger than it had ever been before, making it feel as though gravity itself was trying to push and pull him towards the Earl's pawn.

He felt no desire to run, even when told his body may shatter upon the slightest impact, he hadn't cared, the instinct to go, to fight, too strong for that warning to matter.

He would gladly shatter if he was meant to shatter, so long as he had even just the _chance_ to fight again.

He couldn't stay away, and upon returning to that room, seeing the soul crying out so desperately for his help, he understood why.

The akuma needed him too, just as much, maybe even more so than the people he had come to love. Because unlike many of them, the akuma could fight. They couldn't protect themselves from the earl's cruel grasp, couldn't tear free of its control no matter how much their souls cried out. That was their curse, a curse they needed an exorcist to free them from.

For a time he had forgotten that, his mind focused solely on the friends fighting on the other side of the vast sea.

A new resolve took hold then, one as strong and unshakable as well tempered steel, one that finally balanced his shaking will, evening the scales and offering a new path for him to walk.

He couldn't abandon the akuma, not when their souls cried for the sins they were forced to commit, begging to be set free of the infernal chains that bound them. Nor could he abandon those who had grown so important to him, lifting the loneliness that had been his companion for so long.

He couldn't simply live for one them, but, he knew he could live for both.

He had more than one arm, had more than just one side of his heart.

And as he rose again from beneath the water that had seemed like it would become his grave, his body no longer crumbling to pieces, he made a new vow in the deepest parts of his soul.

His left side, with its blessed curse of an eye and the black claws capable of slicing through most anything would be for the akuma, to save those poor creatures that stood no chance of saving themselves. And his right, the part of him that remained completely human, with soft flesh and a tender heart even when encased by the white cloak, would be for the humans he had grow to love.

He would save one and protect the other, no matter the cost.

 _That_ was his new resolve, and he knew it would never again waver.

It would remain until the day he took it to his very grave.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **That's it for now. Will hopefully have the next one up at some point this evening!**

 **Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**


	6. The Sixth Petal's Fall

**This is Late late late, but better late than never, I suppose. I don't know what was up, but for one reason or another this one was really hard to actually write. I don't even know how many times I got writer's block and wound up revising things instead of working on this. But, it's done at last, so I'm fairly happy ^_^**

 **Day 6: Tribulation / Sad Moments / Emotions  
Chosen Theme: Sad Moments**

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

Timcanpy had always had a habit of flying off, oftentimes disappearing from Allen's side in the mere blink of an eye.

It had happened more times than Allen could count in the days since the golden golem had become his responsibility, his companion vanishing, seemingly into this air without leaving behind any sign of where he had gone. It was something he had become resigned to by this point, something he even expected whenever they were around the order, exasperation only occasionally rearing its head.

More often than not, he had no idea where to look. He knew Timcanpy could be just about anywhere, from the training grounds, to the mess hall, to the science division's area, or any other place, really. There was rarely any pattern to it, so unless someone came to him with information about the golem's whereabouts, he would often have to wait for Timcanpy to return of his own accord before he saw him again.

But, in resent days, that wasn't the case.

In the last several days, there had only been one place Tim would go off to. Thus, when the flash of gold was no longer visible from the corner of his eye, and a cursory glance about proved to be fruitless, he knew in an instant where Tim had gone.

The thought easily drew a sigh from his lips, his expression contorting into a rare show of sorrow as his heart twisted with the thought. Without a moment's hesitation, his feet began carrying him there, practically of their own accord while the inspector wasted no time falling into step just behind the young exorcist.

Allen followed the now familiar path, making his way through the order's halls and doing his best to ignore the near featureless shadow that took the place of his reflection in the windows they passed.

He had made this trek so many times by now, even his horrid sense of direction didn't get him lost, despite his lack of focus.

Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he wasn't sure, and he wasn't even in the mood to think about that.

His mind was too preoccupied, too concerned for his companion for him to worry about such things as he walked.

It was understandable, of course. Cross had been Tim's master long before Allen had taken custody of him, had been the one to create him and cared for him since before Allen had even become Cross' apprentice. Timcanpy's attachment to Cross, the loyalty the golden golem had towards the redheaded general went leaps and bounds beyond what most could imagine.

Even Allen wasn't sure how deep their bond went, so it was only natural he'd be suffering after what had supposedly happened.

Reaching the door, he heard Link sigh as he reached for the knob, but he didn't voice any further protest. He was no doubt used to this by now as well, no longer grabbing for Allen's hand to stop him, despite the restricted status this room still held.

Silently steeling his own nerves, Allen turned the knob and pushed the door open, not even hesitating himself anymore before stepping inside.

Despite how many times he'd laid eyes on this scene over the last several days, it still didn't keep his stomach from giving an unpleasant lurch or his heart from giving a borderline agonizing twist.

The room was still tainted by gore, a fact that Allen still questioned the purpose of. He wasn't sure why they hadn't bothered to clean up yet, leaving the room with its broken window exposed to the elements, and allowing the blood to stay.

His Master's blood.

That was the worst of the scene before his eyes; the dried blood that tainted the glass around where it had been shattered, the brownish red hue that stood stark, undeniable even in the evening light, against the clear surface as well as the frame and sill, even making its way down the wall to pool in a stain on the floor.

The sight of all that dried blood was almost – _almost_ – enough to make vile rise in his throat, even as he tried not to focus on the sight of it all. Instead he trained a silvery gaze on the splash of gold resting on the windowsill, the bright body, wings and tail reflecting the setting suns rays and amplifying them to an almost blinding degree.

Just as Allen suspected, Timcanpy had found his way to a now familiar perch, the small creature all but cuddling against the dried blood that now stained the once pristine sill.

"Tim..." Allen sighed softly as he moved towards the shattered window, kneeling before it so he was almost level with the golden form. At the sound of his nickname, the winged figure turned towards Allen, wings seeming to droop ever so slightly as thou anticipating a reprimand. The pale haired youth raise a hand, rubbing behind one of the small horns, and offering the golem the faintest of smiles, the expression apologetic in nature as he delivered exactly what Tim no doubt foresaw. "You know we're not supposed to be here."

Tim's only form of acknowledgment was a shift of golden wings before he turned away, once again returning to cuddling the bloodstained sill.

Not for the first time, Allen could almost feel his heart breaking for the poor creature, guilt rolling over him in a near crushing wave as he once again realized how little there was he could do for the golem.

Timcanpy had been there for Allen virtually every time Allen had need of a companion, had almost always been the sole creature to offer him the comfort he needed when no one else could even tell he was hurting.

Now here Tim was, grieving a heavy loss that Allen could understand all too easily. And here he sat beside the bloodstained wall, unable to do the same for the small creature.

He heard Link clear his throat, a silent prompt for Allen to just grab Tim as he had so many other times thus far, and he struggled to contain his sigh.

A lot of good that had done, and a lot of good it would do now. Tim always returned to this very spot these days, every time he got the chance. It seemed all that forcing Tim away from here did, was add to the feelings of guilt in the white haired exorcist that only seemed to grow each time he plucked the golem from his perch.

It made him more than a little hesitant to do just that, knowing that it would only have the same result as every other time he had been lured here by the grieving golem.

Maybe it was time he tried a different method...?

"Hey, Link," Allen began hesitantly, his finger running across one of Tim's wings as he glanced back at the older man. "Do you think I can have a few minutes...?"

The typical frown tugged at Link's lips, the expression one Allen had become well accustomed to. "You know this is a restricted area under heavy investigation, Walker. You shouldn't even be he-"

"I know, I know," Allen sighed in response, hand moving from Tim's small form as he straightened up, turning to fully face the inspector. "Please, Link. Just this once."

The other's frown deepened, his amber eyes narrowing on the exorcist as though considering, and honestly Allen could see the reluctance in the other male's gaze, the faint note of suspicion that was probably only a glimmer of the feeling the man actually felt. That was all he needed to see to know what Link was probably going to say.

Allen and Cross had had their differences. That was no secret, and Allen wasn't foolish. He knew he was most likely one of the main suspects. That had been clear from the time he'd come here just a couple days ago, when Leverrier had basically accused him outright in this very room.

It wasn't much f a surprise.

He was the host of a Noah, after all. Even if he was still him, and had no intention of letting the damnable fourteenth have any form of control, he knew that that reason was enough in the eyes of Leverrier and probably many others for him not to be trusted. Admittedly, Allen wasn't sure he'd fully be able to trust him either, if he were in another's shoes. Not after seeing what the Noah were capable of, what they had done. But he had hoped that, at the very least, the suspicion of him killing his own master would have cleared.

"Alright, Walker," Link stated, an almost exasperated sigh escaping his lips, before they pursed together. He turned to the door. "I'll give you five minutes. That's it."

Surprise didn't even begin to explain how Allen felt hearing those words, the feeling only growing as Link actually exited, closing the door behind him and offering Allen and Tim their first taste of privacy in days.

For a moment, all Allen did was stare at the closed entryway. He could see Link's form blocking the light that filtered in through the crack at the bottom of the door, the blond not wandering far. That was fine by Allen. Just the closed door between himself and the inspector was more than he had genuinely hoped for, even with the blond standing guard, no doubt with sharp ears focused within.

He turned his attention back to Tim, knowing that the five minutes wouldn't last long.

"I'm guessing you still can't track him...?" Allen inquired, already knowing the answer even before Tim's body shifted in a familiar gesture. Allen couldn't help the sigh that passed his lips, mask falling to reveal a crestfallen expression he would allow no one but the small golem in front of him to see.

When he first saw the blood decorating his Master's room, he hadn't believed his eyes. In all the time he had known the general, he could scarcely remember him getting much more than a few bruises in even the most gruesome fight, only the worst of them resulting in his blood being drawn, even in small amounts. It was still nearly impossible for him to wrap his head around so much blood being drawn from his Master.

The second thought was that it must have belonged to someone else. That someone else had been foolish enough to attack Cross Marian in an attempt t take him down, and had paid the price for it, but Komui had soon put an end to those thoughts.

Allen hadn't even been able to react to the revelation, the wave of cold that ran through his veins making him numb, and even when his blood warmed and feeling returned, accepting even the possibility of their theory being true proved difficult to say the least.

He had asked Tim multiple times since then, the hope for a different answer getting slimmer and slimmer with each negative the golem gave, but still, he clung to those fraying threads like a lifeline.

Timcanpy should have been more in tune with Cross than any other creature, in or outside of the order. If Cross was still alive, Tim should have been able to tell. If even he couldn't...

Pain began to creep into his chest, heavy tendrils brushing against his heart and bringing with it a shadow of an agony he had never wanted to feel again. With just that first touch, breathing seemed to grow more difficult, his chest feeling tighter with that first fleeting touch.

He didn't let it get any farther.

Denial flared to life, rearing its head and slamming into the feelings of doubt, shoving them back with all the force of an akuma's bullet.

No, he still refused to accept it, too many thoughts whirling in his head for him to just accept such a thing.

"Come here, Tim..." Allen said softly, placing his hand beside the golem's form, being careful not to touch the stain on the sill.

Timcanpy didn't immediately move seeming to consider Allen's request, and for a moment Allen honestly expected Tim to remain, resting against the bloodstained surface. A flutter of gold wings lifted him from the stained wood, proving Allen's suspicion false before the familiar weight of that golden body came to rest in his open hand.

A faint smile made its way to his lips, his thumb running lightly along the golem's smooth side as the creature faced him. "I know you miss Master," He began, silvery hues locked on the cross decorating the golem's front, "But you need to stop flying off like this, Timcanpy... You're going to get us both into big trouble if you keep it up..."

Tim flashed his teeth, a faint sound, bordering on a growl emanating from his frame that Allen felt more than he heard. The 'argument' was short lived, Timcanpy's teeth disappearing behind the cross without leaving so much as a seem in to show they had ever been bared. Timcanpy's wings drooped slightly, his tail flicking and body beginning to angle away from Allen's form.

"Tim, don't be like that." Allen murmured, the minuscule smile he wore disappearing completely as he twisted his hands, making the golem face him once more. "You know no one's supposed to be in here..."

Timcanpy's wings gave a slight flick in acknowledgment before the appendages drooped once more, going practically limp where they rested, spilling from Allen's cupped hands.

Another sigh escaped the exorcist's lips, and without a thought he found his hands moving closer to his own form. The feeling of helplessness that once again reared its head was one that only seemed to be becoming that much more prominent each time he entered this room to find Timcanpy, in the same spot, nuzzling the stain.

"You really think he's dead, don't you?" He asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but still, it sounded so much louder, almost like a shout in the stillness of the rapidly darkening room. The way Tim's body only sank deeper into his hand, his legs no longer supporting his small frame, was more than enough of an answer for the pale haired teen.

Once again pain twisted in his chest, and without a thought he brought the golem closer still, holding him against his chest in a gentle embrace. Timcanpy writhed for but a scant moment before falling still. He soon felt the pressure against his chest grow, the golem nuzzling into his chest just over his beating heart as though seeking what little comfort could be found in the steady beat.

"Have a little faith in Master, Tim," Allen murmured, noting only vaguely how ironic such a thing may have been coming from his lips. He was perhaps the last person to have faith in Cross Marian when it came to most things. "I know it isn't likely but... He isn't the kind of man who's easy to kill. You know better than anyone how many people have tried. Can you really believe it without seeing his body first...?"

Allen glanced down as he felt Tim's wings lift, the appendages that had previously laid limp inst his hands seeming to perk up ever so slightly at the exorcist's words, and Allen couldn't help the faint smile that made its way to his lips.

He loosened his hold on the golem, and Tim took to the air once again. Allen half expected Tim to return to the stain, but instead, the golem's weight came to rest on Allen's shoulder. Allen's legs bent, coming up so that they rested near his chest, while Timcanpy easily made himself comfortable, nuzzling close to Allen's neck in a gesture that made Allen wonder for a moment who was comforting who.

It was times like these that Allen truly wished Tim had a voice of his own, could tell Allen what was going on in his mind.

But alas, Timcanpy couldn't.

So Allen had no way of knowing whether those words had offered Tim some semblance of hope in the unlikely possibility, or if Tim was simply humoring him. Cuddling into the crook of his neck more out of pity than gratitude because he knew Allen's meager hope wasn't even half as likely as he believed.

He hoped it was the former; that maybe Timcanpy would be able to find solace in the possibility that his creator was still out there, that one day, maybe, he'd get to see him again.

Turning his head, Allen lifted his shoulder and rested his cheek against the golem's form, letting silence fall on the room as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, bathing the room in shades of blue and gray.

Allen's arms wrapped loosely around his legs, eyes drifting closed, and after neither moved.

They remained like that, enjoying their remaining moments of their borrowed privacy in the comfortable silence that they had both grown so accustomed to, a silence that in itself held a sense of camaraderie and home that even the order had difficulty matching these days.

It wasn't long before Link opened the door, allowing the light from the hall to enter the shadow-bathed interior and announcing an end to their privacy. But even then, they remained still, not moving until at last Link demanded that they leave the room.

Reluctantly, Allen pushed himself to his feet. Tim remained, perched atop his shoulder as he excited the room, halting just beyond to await Link. The Inspector wasted no time in following, the door closing behind him with the softest of clicks.

Allen couldn't help but hope that this would be the last time he heard that particular door closed. But, at the same time, a part of him knew it probably wouldn't be.

 **S2 S2 S2 S2 S2**

 **And that is it for my day six entry at last~**

 **Even though the countdown's technically over, I'm still gonna write something for the remaining themes so you can expect two more things to be coming in this little compilation. Hopefully those one's won't be as difficult to write so I can get them up quickly. Hoping to have them both up by the 15th at the latest so we'll see if I can do it.**

 **Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**


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